


In Our Hearts

by gaylock, gaysandcrime



Category: Beauty and the Beast (1991), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Beauty and the Beast Fusion, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst, Beauty and the Beast Elements, Hurt/Comfort, Love, M/M, Romance, mystrade
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-05
Updated: 2016-12-05
Packaged: 2018-09-06 16:06:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8759800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaylock/pseuds/gaylock, https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaysandcrime/pseuds/gaysandcrime
Summary: Greg at nineteen is desperate for adventure. Mycroft at twenty is desperate for help. They'll need to help each other to both find what they're looking for. And maybe they'll end up with something more along the way.
A Beauty and the Beast fic.





	1. Once Upon a Time...

**Author's Note:**

> Based off of Beauty and the Beast. I don't own Disney and I don't own BBC Sherlock, but I do think they make a very charming couple. As do Greg and Mycroft, of course, *wink*. Enjoy.

_Once upon a time, in a faraway land, a young prince lived in a_ _shining castle. Although he had everything his heart desired,_  
_the prince was spoiled, selfish, and unkind. But then, one_ _winter's night, an old beggar woman came to the castle and_  
_offered him a single rose in return for shelter from the bitter_ _cold. Repulsed by her haggard appearance, the prince sneered at_  
_the gift and turned the old woman away, but she warned him not_ _to be deceived by appearances, for beauty is found within._  
_And when he dismissed her again, the old woman's ugliness_ _melted away to reveal a beautiful enchantress.The prince_  
_tried to apologize, but it was too late, for she had seen that_ _there was no love in his heart and as punishment, she_  
_transformed him into a hideous beast, and placed a_ _powerful spell on the castle, and all who lived there._  
_Ashamed of his monstrous form, the beast concealed himself_ _inside his castle, with a magic mirror as his only window to_  
_the outside world. The rose she had offered was truly an_ _enchanted rose, which would bloom until his twenty-first_  
_year. If he could learn to love another and earn her love in_ _return by the time the last petal fell, then the spell would_  
_be broken. If not, he would be doomed to remain a beast for_ _all time. As the years passed, he fell into despair, and lost_  
_all hope, for who could ever learn to love a beast?_

_***_

Greg flew through the cobbled streets, laughing as he darted between the townsfolk, spinning and jumping to keep from knocking into anybody. He stumbled to a stop right outside the door to a tiny little shop on the corner and grinned. He pushed the door open and the bell above jingled merrily. "Hello! I've come to return the books I borrowed!" He ran through the shelves of dusty tomes until he came upon the shopkeeper, who was perched atop his ladder, reshelving books at an impressive rate. Greg smiled and leaned against the lower shelves, two books tucked under his arm. "Hello, sir!"

The shopkeeper turned and looked down at Greg with a fond smile. "Ah, Mister Lestrade! How are you, this fine morning?"

"Wonderful, sir, and it's not even gone nine! I can already tell it's going to be a wonderful day." He beamed and held the ladder steady while the man stepped down it. Greg handed the two books he was carrying over and clasped his hands in front of his body. "I finished both of these, sir, and was wondering if I could borrow another for today."

The shopkeeper laughed and shook his finger. "Finished in one day! Why, young man, it's as if you do nothing  _bu_ _t_ read my books!" He took the books over to a shelf and carefully slid them into place before turning back around. "Did you enjoy them? Which was your favourite?"

Greg nodded and shifted back and forth on his feet restlessly. "Yes! They were both wonderful, although I think I rather preferred the one about the dragons and the wizards. The pirates were great too, but just..." He trailed off and waved a hand around vaguely.

The shopkeeper grinned. "I thought as much; you always prefer the magic and creatures and adventure." He looked off down the stacks and shelves and pressed a finger to his chin in thought. "Now then, another book, hmmm......I did get a new one in, just yesterday, and I think....If I can find the blasted thing, it's yours to keep." He strolled slowly through the shelves and rows of books, and Greg quickly followed along behind him, intrigued despite himself. It wasn't often the store got new adventure books, and Greg was excited to be the first to read it.

"Aha! Here it is, just as I suspected." The man plucked a very large green bound book from a corner and turned to present it to Greg. "Here you go, lad. Should offer you some excitement, and it's rather long so I don't expect you for another few days!" He wagged his finger at Greg playfully and Greg laughed, taking the book and carrying it carefully.

"Thank you, sir! I'll take good care of it, I promise. And I swear I'll stay away longer than a day this time." He smiled and waved as he left the shop, new book in hand and a skip in his step at the thought of reading a story he'd never read before. The town streets were more crowded now than when he had first left his house, and Greg had to take more care weaving in and out between the bodies, making sure to never jostle anyone on his way. He smiled in greeting to a few people every now and then until he had reached his destination at last; the fountain in the center of the town square. Sighing contentedly, Greg sat down on the edge of the fountain and leaned back, letting one hand trail lightly through the water as he took in the sheep and other animals meandering about. He patted a few curious sheep on the head and examined his new book carefully.

It was bound with some sort of leather or hide, but it was unlike anything Greg had ever seen. Thick and a vibrant dark green, it looked almost like scales until you looked closer. There were intricate designs, swirls and leaves and other things, in slightly lighter and darker veins on the surface of the cover, and Greg found himself drawn in. He traced over some of the designs with a finger, looking for images he recognized and studying carefully the ones he didn't. There were things that looked like mythical creatures, and things that looked like people's faces. Some looked like plants he knew about, and some looked more exotic. Greg hummed to himself as he studied the front cover, before turning the book over to see that it was the same on the back.

"Interesting," he murmured to himself and the sheep standing beside him. It gave him a bored look and nibbled on his shirt sleeve idly. He was about to open the book and see if the strange designs also covered its pages when a voice spoke his name.

"Greg!"

He looked up and sighed. "Annie." He put the book down on his lap and folded his hands on top of it.

The girl Annie stood in front of him, batting her lashes and smiling. Her best friend Grace stood behind her. "Greg, darling, it's so good to see you, it seems like its been  _ages_ since I last saw you!" She swayed her hips seductively, and let her long dark hair fall over one of her dark eyes.

Greg wanted nothing more than for her and her friend to be gone but was much too polite to send her off just like that. He sighed again. "We spoke just two days ago, Annie," he said as patiently as he could. His hands and eyes itched to be reading and examining his new book but put it off for politeness's sake.

Annie pouted prettily. Or at least, that's what Greg thought she was trying to do. "But Greg, darling," She glanced around before batting her lashes again, making sure she had an audience, "Don't you want to talk to me? Don't you like talking to me?"

Greg ran a hand through his hair and refrained (just barely) from rolling his eyes to plead with the heavens.  _Good God,_ he thought,  _why must she be so annoying?_ He held back another sigh. "What do you want, Annie?" he asked, not bothering to answer the question because his answer would only be a rude one.

"Well, I just thought it would be good to get to know one another better, Greg darling," She smiled and turned to look back at Grace to make sure she had her friend's full attention, before turning back. "Don't  _you_ think we should get to know one another better, Greg?" She took another step towards him and he jumped up, moving a few feet away.

"Um, yeah, sure, Annie. But, just- not now, okay? I'm busy, and I, uh- I have stuff to do." He flashed a quick and entirely insincere smile at her and Grace, before he fled the scene, dodging through the crowd and the streets quickly to make sure she couldn't follow. When he was finally far enough away, he slowed down and caught his breath, hugging the book to his chest. "God, that girl is going to send me to an early grave," he muttered under his breath, blowing a piece of hair out of his eyes. He made his way out of the town and onto the surrounding field, plopping down onto green grass and laying down with a slow breath. The sun was high in the sky, shining down, bathing the world in golden light and warmth. He laughed out loud and rolled around a bit before hopping up and twirling in the slight summer breeze. Out here he could forget about the townspeople, forget about their thoughts and demands and whispers. Forget about people like Annie. Out here in the sunlight and the breeze, Greg could just be himself. "One day," he said as he spun in circles. "One day I'm going to leave this little town, and I'm going to travel and explore!" He let himself tumble to the ground, rolling to a stop next to his new book, which he'd let drop to the grass upon his arrival. A feeling of peace and happiness stole over him as it always did when he spent time alone on the hills.

"One day," he said softly, laying on his back with his hands beneath his head, staring up at the blue sky and the fluffy white clouds. "I'm going to have an  _adventure_."

 


	2. The Inventor's Son

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, every other chapter will be written by me (gaylock) while the others will be written by my pal gaysandcrime. The first one was written by her, and this one by me:) Just thought I'd let y'all know! Plus, she's better about updating than I am, so hopefully this fic will actually get finished eventually, lol.

_Greg runs through the grass and spins in the sunlight on the hills. Meanwhile, in town..._

***

Tall, thin, and gorgeous, Annabelle Dubois, called Annie by her friends, was the most sought after young woman in town. All the ladies were jealous of her beauty, and all the men wished she was theirs. Her hair was long and dark and straight, and her eyes large and hazel. She had perfectly flawless skin, lightly tanned from the summer sun. Her body, while slim, was curvaceous, and to top it all off, her father was the richest man in town. Yes, all in all, the general opinion of the townsfolk was that Annabelle Dubois was the most important, most beautiful girl in town. She was everything a young lady should be. Quite unlike that inventor's son, Gregory Lestrade, who, while exquisitely handsome and endlessly kind, was rather odd and not at all like the other young men of the town. He was, however, the best looking, so it was no wonder that Annabelle had her sights set on him.

Annie flounced into the tavern and waved flirtatiously at all the young men who looked her way. Grace followed behind her, and soon they were both seated at a table, surrounded by all the other young ladies from town. Annie tossed her long dark hair over her shoulder and smirked at the rest of the girls. "Did you see the way Greg smiled at me, Grace?"

Grace nodded raptly. "Uh huh!" Grace sat down beside Annie, her chubby frame somehow squeezing into the seat. "And he promised to talk to you, too! You're so lucky, Annie." Grace sighed dreamily, although whether it was directed at the thought of Greg or at the girl beside her, nobody knew. 

"I heard that he's been avoiding you," the nasal voice of Diana Stallworth said from the left, and Annie shot a glare in that direction. 

"He has not! He's just been busy." Annie twirled a piece of hair around one perfectly manicured finger and winked at one of the boys at the bar. He fell off his barstool, and Grace giggled beside her. "Besides, what boy would avoid  _me?_ I'm the best looking girl in town, not to mention the richest."

Diana wrinkled her nose. "Well, I don't know why you'd  _want_ him to notice you; he's not normal."

Annie raised a perfectly arched brow. "He's the best-looking boy in town, Diana. That makes him the best." She smiled as Grace nodded in agreement beside her and looked down to examine her nails. "And don't I deserve the best?"

The rest of the girls at the table chimed in with "yes," and Annie beamed.

"I know he's always reading those dreadful, boring books," here Annie made a face, proclaiming her disdain for such a thing, "but I'm sure I can get him to stop all that. And when we're married, he'll work in the forest or on the river, like a real man." She smiled to herself, feeling satisfied and smug; Greg Lestrade really was the most handsome boy in town, and their children would be  _beautiful_.

The girls around her gasped in delight. "Marry him? Oh, Annie! Are you really going to?"

She smiled down at them as she stood up. "Of course I am, girls."

Diana laughed rudely and tilted back in her seat. "Oh really? How are you going to do that, then? He doesn't even like you." She sneered.

Annie stuck her nose in the air and sniffed haughtily. "Of course he does. I mean, look at me, I'm gorgeous." She watched the boys at the bar watching her and smiled smugly. "And besides, Daddy owns his father's land and wants to use it to build a new manor. If he wants to save it, he'll  _have_ to marry me." She smiled wickedly at Diana and the rest of them, before saying, "Come along, Grace. Let's go find Greg." She left the tavern without a backward glance, although she did stop at the door to flutter her lashes at the man who held it open for her.

Grace smirked at the girls before racing along behind her, rushing on her short stubby legs to catch up. "Annie!" She gasped for breath before continuing. "Are you really going to marry him? The inventor's son?" She brushed the skirt of her dress off and waited beside her friend. 

Annie turned to look at her, her lips pursed in displeasure. "Yes, Grace, I am. Now shut up, Greg is coming." She smiled over her shoulder and began sashaying toward him. She looked at him, with his perfect smile and his soulful brown eyes, and sighed internally. Yes, their children would be beautiful, and she would get to lord it over all the other girls. She smirked as she came to a stop beside him, and plucked the ugly, large book from his hands.

"Oi!" Greg's voice was sharp with surprise.

She laughed and tossed the book into the mud behind her, stepping closer to Greg's body and looking up through her lashes. "Oh Greg, darling, you really need to stop reading those silly, boring books!" She placed a fine-boned hand on his shoulder and giggled girlishly at him. "I mean, really; they don't even have any pictures."

Greg brushed her hand off and pushed her away so he could move around her. She scowled fiercely before quickly turning it into an apologetic smile as he turned to face her, muddy book in his hands. He was glaring as he used the edge of his sleeve to wipe off the cover, and it was all she could do not to sneer at his now disgusting sleeve.

"Annie, some people  _enjoy_ reading, you know. And I don't need pictures because _I_  can use my imagination." His voice was deep and manly and made Annie shiver in delight. She smirked to herself, because Greg always liked to play hard to get, and it was refreshing.

"Well, Greg, everyone else thinks you should be doing  _proper_ work, like all the other boys." She turned to look at Grace and waited for her to nod in agreement before continuing. "My Daddy say's all young men need to work if they want to be able to have a family and support their wives." She smiled flirtatiously at him again and twirled her hair around her finger. "And you  _do_ want a wife and family, don't you, Greg?"

Greg looked away and coughed. He was about to say something when she cut him off. "Nevermind, of course, you do. Now then, why don't you join me at the tavern, and we can have that little talk you promised me this morning?"

"Uh, I'd love to, Annie, really I would- but, you know, I have to help my father." He grinned at her and she nearly swooned; his teeth were perfectly straight and blindingly white.

"Hah! That old loon, he needs all the help he can get!" Diana Stallworth swept toward them with a smirk. Annie smirked back.

Greg glared at them. "Hey! Don't talk about my father like that!"

Annie quickly turned her smirk into a scowl and glared at Diana. "God, Diana, you're so insensitive!" She placed her hand once again on Greg's shoulder and turned to look at him with a happy sigh. 

Greg pushed her hand away and took a step back. "My father isn't crazy, he's a genius!" 

The sound of an explosion came from the direction of Greg's house, and he quickly turned around and left. Annie turned to look at Diana and Grace, and the three of them burst into giggles.

"Honestly, Annie, you want to marry  _that?_ _"_ Diana wiped tears of laughter from her eyes.

Annie straightened out her dress and giggled. "Well, I'll have Daddy deal with Greg's father after the wedding. I'm sure the crazy old man will leave if Daddy pays him enough." She sighed and linked arms with Grace. "Come along, ladies. I have a wedding to plan."


	3. A Clockwork Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dudes, this one's written by gaysandcrime (aka Moi)

Claws shredded painting after painting which lined his walls, and he growled deep in his throat. Candlelight flickered in the corners of each room and shadows gathered together like a solid wall the closer he got to the East Wing. His feet landed heavily on the stone floor as he stomped moodily up the stairs and through the various corridors to his inner sanctum. He slammed the door shut and threw himself into an armchair which sat in front of the empty, cold fireplace. The curtains which covered the large picture window on the far wall were torn and tattered, hanging onto the rod by a thread. Pieces of upholstery and down from pillows and cushions were scattered across the floor, and Mycroft could feel the part of him which always balked at messiness twitch. He shoved it down and away with a snarl, deriving a sick sense of satisfaction from the utter disarray of the room. 

His eyes stared in angry defiance at the small round table which sat across from him in the only corner of the room still perfectly tidy and clean. Upon the table sat a glass case and within the case a delicate clockwork heart, ticking away the minutes until his twenty-first birthday. He scowled and turned away, staring instead at the empty wall beside him. He didn't move for the next few hours and barely registered the soft knock at the door when it finally came, disturbing his self-imposed isolation.

"Mycroft?" a soft voice asked through the wood and Mycroft growled low in his throat.

_"What?"_

"Dinner is ready." The voice sounded cautious and wary.

Mycroft sighed and closed his eyes. He felt guilty for snapping, but his anger was always so close to the surface nowadays. It only seemed to be getting worse the closer to his deathbed he got, and Mycroft had to shake himself hard in order to push the anger down. "Thank you, John. I'm sorry for snapping; I was not paying attention, and you startled me." He refused to look at the clockwork heart in its glass case one last time before he left the room, shutting the door firmly behind him. John peered up at him from the ground, his shiny golden arms each carrying an unlit candle.

"That's quite alright." He smiled at him and waited for Mycroft to pick him up and hold his candles up to one of the wall sconces which were lit and glowing. His candles then lighted, Mycroft carried John in front of him, letting him light the way down the hall and through the castle to the dining room. He placed him gently down on the corner of the table before he sat, taking his place at the head of the long oak table. He smoothed down his velvet jacket over his chest and waited for dinner to be served. His tail twitched impatiently. 

"Mycroft, dear, would you like tea before your meal is served?" Mrs. Hudson rolled out on a dolly, her tea service all bobbing in excitement at the chance to serve, and he couldn't help the fond smile which twitched his lips.

"Tea would be lovely, Mrs. Hudson, thank you."

Her porcelain body seemed to shine extra bright at that, and she smiled. "Wonderful. Now Billy, do as I've taught you."

A tiny chipped tea cup hopped out from behind her, and Mycroft offered it a small smile. Billy seemed to gain courage from that and quickly began going about the business of preparing Mycroft's tea just how he liked it. When it was done, Billy very carefully hopped down onto the table to sit beside Mycroft's plate.

"Thank you, Mrs. Hudson, Billy." Mycroft sipped his tea and leaned back in his chair with a sigh. He could smell dinner and heard the sounds of it being plated and made ready to be brought out.

Mycroft finished his tea and thanked Mrs. Hudson and co. once again, before letting her roll back into the kitchen to clean herself and her service up. He turned to watch John as the candlestick light each of the other candlesticks on the very long table carefully. "John, do you know where my brother is?"

John turned to look at him and waved one of his arms a bit vaguely in the direction of the library. "I think I saw him go into the library, but I'm not sure."

Mycroft was just about to answer when the sound of the dining room doors slamming open resounded through the air, and he could hear the light tapping which indicated his brother's arrival. He smiled and turned to greet his brother.

"Good evening, Sherlock. I hear you spent your afternoon in the library. Reading about pirates again?"

Sherlock's glass face scowled mightily as he clunked and hopped his way over to the table, letting Mycroft pick him up and place him up beside John. "Mycroft. Spend the afternoon pouting in your little room of depression? I'm sure the bare wall you stared at for hours was absolutely riveting."

Mycroft didn't bother responding with anything but a sharp grin; he was used to his brother's acerbic personality and cruel comments. "Quite so. I also found myself enjoying the destruction of property on my way upstairs. The second-floor corridor's paintings are in shreds. The entire Equestrian Trials collection, unfortunately."

Sherlock snorted and hopped a bit to the right. "Good. They were terrible."

Mycroft sighed. "They were grandmama's favourite."

"They were horrid, and grandmama had terrible taste. It is a blessing that they are now gone."

John jabbed Sherlock's wooden body and Sherlock rolled his eyes and huffed.

"Dinner is served!" A chorus of a hundred voices came from the kitchen doors, which then swung open to admit a long line of dishes and trays. They were all carefully arranged on the table, and Mycroft's glass was filled with wine. He sipped it thoughtfully. "A good year. One of father's favourites. Though, Mummy couldn't stand it when she was pregnant with you," He smirked as Sherlock scowled and John giggled.

"At least she wasn't stuffing herself with cake every minute of the day when she was pregnant with me; it's no wonder you came out fat."

John let out a scandalized gasp of "Sherlock!" and Mycroft laughed for the first time that day.

"It's quite alright, John," Mycroft said, his face amused. He dished himself food from the various platters which surrounded his plate and sipped his wine.

A soft female voice came from his left. "Besides, his weight is the least of his problems, don't you think?" The soft sound of feathers brushing the floor accompanied the voice, and Mycroft glanced down, his eyes narrowed.

"Hello, Anthea." 

The feather duster didn't look up from where she was busy dusting the floor in front of the fireplace. "Hello, sir."

"I thought I told you not to mention it in my presence." His voice was cold. How dare she? How dare she mention _his problem_ to his face? 

Anthea wasn't phased by his tone in the least, and she didn't bother responding, just continued dusting in silence. 

"Leave the poor dear alone, Mycroft. She's just worried about you, is all. We all are." Mrs. Hudson was back, hopping along the tabletop toward his seat. 

Mycroft snarled and dropped his cutlery, pushing violently away from the table, his claws scratching the wood. _"Me?_ What about all of you! When the curse ends and I die, you'll all be stuck like this, forever. How can you-," he swallowed and stood up abruptly, turning his face away. "Thank you for the lovely meal, everyone, but I'm afraid I am not feeling well." He stepped away, his tail trailing along the ground behind him. When he reached the doors, he turned back for a moment, his face blank, though his eyes looked haunted. "Good night."

Sherlock's wooden body jerked forward. "Mycroft-,"

Mycroft hissed and his tail twitched angrily. "I said _goodnight!"_ He whirled away and slammed the doors shut behind him, and the sound echoed in the heavy silence. 

 

 

 


End file.
